


Bond'll Never Be Broken, That Love'll Never Get Lost

by quicksilverdeancas (quicksilvermalec)



Series: See You Again 'verse [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Author Projecting onto Sam Winchester, Body Dysphoria, Canon Temporary Character Death, Dean is dead btw, Don't Like Don't Read, FTM Sam Winchester, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Graphic Depictions of Dysphoria, Graphic Mental Illness, Hurt Sam Winchester, I will not accept any hate in any form, I'm Sorry, I'm a dysphoric af transboy, IM SO SORRY SAMMY, Insecure Sam Winchester, Off-screen Character Death, Panic Attacks, Post-Episode: s03e16 No Rest For The Wicked, Post-Season/Series 03, Pre-Season/Series 04, Sam Winchester Angst, Sam Winchester Cries, Sam Winchester Has Mental Health Issues, Sam Winchester Has a Vagina, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Sam Winchester Takes Care of Himself, Sam misses his brother, Showers, Spoilers for Episode: s03e16 No Rest For The Wicked, Temporary Character Death, Trans Sam Winchester, and tits, canon character death, enjoy, i might reorder the series, i'm sorry this is garbage, idk how to tag this, kind of????, rated for language, sort of a little bit - Freeform, this happens before part 3, this is not in order sorry, this is short, yep, ~~but not for long bitch~~
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21698974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksilvermalec/pseuds/quicksilverdeancas
Summary: He has to cope somehow, and sometimes holding on to him is the best he can do.
Relationships: Sam Winchester & Dean Winchester
Series: See You Again 'verse [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1519898
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44
Collections: Dean and Sam Bingo, Sam Winchester Bingo, Some Supernatural Adventures in Genderfuckery





	Bond'll Never Be Broken, That Love'll Never Get Lost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writingisntapastime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingisntapastime/gifts).



> This was written for the Sam Winchester Bingo. It covers the square 'Free Space'.  
> This was written for the Sam and Dean Bingo. It covers the square, 'Angst'.
> 
> This is... angsty.
> 
> I am sorry.
> 
> Enjoy?

Five weeks.

It’s been five weeks since Dean went to Hell. It’s been five weeks since Sam couldn’t save his brother.

He’s angry. He’s just _really_ fucking angry that he couldn’t fix it, he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t make it right. He’s angry at the world and he’s angry at God (if he even exists) and he’s angry at Lilith and he’s angry at himself and-

He’s been threatening demons, _begging_ them to let him trade places with Dean. But he can’t, they won’t take him. He’s not enough, he’s never been enough. He was never good enough for Dad and he was never good enough for Dean and he was barely even good enough for Jess.

He’s covered in blood and guts and all kinds of various demonic grossnesses, so he decides he probably needs to shower.

God, he hates showering.

But he does it. He makes his way into the shitty motel bathroom and he strips off his shirt, tosses it into the main room, unbuckles his belt, unzips his jeans… until he’s standing there in just his boxers and his binder, his clothes in a heap just outside the bathroom door, and he stares at his stupid reflection in the mirror.

Why doesn’t he cut his hair? Dean always made fun of him for it, and Sam supposes he’s not wrong – it _does_ make him look like a girl, and he hates that, he doesn’t want to be – but he’s attached to his long hair for some reason. It’s not like he’s gonna grow it out like it was before, but he likes it shoulder-length and kinda messy.

He doesn’t like thinking about Dean.

He doesn’t like a lot of things.

“Okay, time for the hard part,” he mutters to himself, turning around so he can’t see his reflection in the mirror and toeing the door closed, even though there’s no one else in the motel room, no one else even knows he’s there. He grips the bottom hem of his binder tightly, until his knuckles start turning white, and asks himself for about the thousandth time since he got the damn thing why it’s so hard for him to take it off. It’s not like he can’t put it on whenever he wants to.

He grits his teeth, squeezes his eyes shut, and yanks it up and over his head.

Oh, fuck. Fuck fucking- fuckfuck _fuck_. He’s immediately hit with a wave of dysphoria so bad it’s physically sickening. It makes his stomach roil and his head hurt and his blood roar in his ears. Goddammit, this is going to be _really_ fun, isn’t it?

Just when he thinks he’s getting it under control, he moves, he feels _them_ , and he automatically reaches up to adjust them and-

And then it’s a dysphoria attack, and he finds himself sinking to the floor, holding on to the door handle to keep himself grounded, binder still clenched in his left fist as he hyperventilates. When he comes back to himself enough to remember his surroundings, he forces himself to think. _What did Dean used to say?_ Dean was always the one who helped him through these things. But Dean’s not here, so he’s gotta do it himself.

“It’s okay,” he whispers to himself. “It’s gonna be okay.” He takes a deep breath. “You’re okay, Sammy. Just stare at the wall or the ceiling. Don’t look down, don’t look in the mirror, it’s gonna be okay, Sammy. Don’t look down… don’t look in the mirror… you’re okay. It’s okay, Sammy. It’s okay. You got this. Just stand up.”

He takes another deep breath and drags himself to his feet with one hand on the door handle and one on the counter.

“Okay, good. Now just turn on the water. Good job, Sammy, you can do this.” He walks across the room, twists the handle to turn on the tap, sticks his hand under it. Once it gets warm, he grabs the little pin, pulls it up. The showerhead sputters and starts.

“Good job, Sammy,” he repeats quietly to himself. “It’s okay.” He puts his towel on the towel rack, sheds his boxers ( _carefully_ not looking down because good god), and steps under the spray. And then he stands there, like a block of ice, not moving for at least a minute, until finally water starts dripping into his face from his hair and he brushes it away and then he grabs his fruity body wash and starts vigorously scrubbing his entire body, still not looking away from this one stain on the tile wall.

He imagines he’s somewhere else, _anywhere else_ , while he washes… that stuff. He pretends he’s doing something completely unrelated, and then when all the water runs clear again, he finally lets go.

He slumps against the wall, his ankle braced in one corner of the bathtub, his shoulder against the opposite wall, his arm outstretched to hold himself up. He lets his head fall forward and his tears are barely noticeable among the water streaming down from above him.

He’s so angry.

When he checks out of the motel, all the knuckles on his right hand are wrapped in white gauze, and there’s a chip in one of the tiles in the shower that wasn’t there when he checked in.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a real thing that happened to me and I literally got through it by pretending I was Sam Winchester and saying those things that Sam says in this fic (including the 'Sammy' part). This is how I deal. By pretending it's not happening to me.
> 
> Isn't that fun?
> 
> Anyway...
> 
> Love,  
> -Fake Dean


End file.
